Film, Freelensing, and Illustration

Dear Goo: Sorry I Haven’t Written in a While

When I found out I was pregnant, I started writing letters to you. You were, at the time, no bigger than a poppy seed. I’ll never forget when they gave me my first ultrasound and you bounced around like a little bean. Today, you shake the house when you leap from things. There is no couch too tall, no drop too high. You still can’t stop talking about the rollercoaster you rode during the Fourth of July fair. You’re just like Daddy. I swear he does a mental dance when he hears you babbling on about said rollercoaster.

“That’s my girl,” he often mumbles under his breath with a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

It’s one of the reasons I’m really pushing Cedar Point this year. You went when you were a little over one-year-old, and you had a blast even then. It was neat to watch you nap in our hotel room to the rumbling sound of the coasters we could see from our window.

You took a picture with Snoopy. You rode the swing ride a thousand times. It poured rain on our second day and Daddy and I quickly pushed your stroller into the Starbucks, freezing and looking forward to a latte, only to learn their steamer was broken. We laughed, and as he shivered and nursed a frappuccino, I told him we would always remember that moment.

This year I plan on staying in the park until dusk so you can see the fireworks, yet another one of your favorite things. Don’t even get me started on the beach.

You’ve kept me so busy, with your acrobatics, your ballet, your pestering the cat, your constant growing–I told you to stop that–that I haven’t written to you since a few months after you were born. But I want to start writing to you again, because one day all three of us are going to look back on these letters and grin.So I suppose I should tell you where we are today. You turned four just a few weeks ago. FOUR. It never really occurred to me that you would one day be this old. You told me on your birthday “after four, I’m going to be five,” and I said “noooooo we’re not talking about that right now!”

You make up silly stories and tell me about your dreams. The other day, we braved the cold to put birdseed out on the porch and this is what you said:

“The birds are going to be like, ‘what’s that?’ and then they’re going to be like, ‘oh, that’s just my food.'”

Then you added: “They’re going to be like, ‘is that bugs? Nope, that’s just birdseed.'”

You now say cereal like I’ve taught you. Instead of see-yole, you say it the right way and you might think it’s weird to be proud of something like that (if I weren’t a parent, I would probably think it was weird too) but I am. I’m proud of a lot of stuff. But enough of that mushy nonsense.

Ballet is a hit, and so is the indoor playground at the mall. You and your auntie V are best friends–and I hope that continues–and your favorite food is (still) salad with extra cucumbers and ranch. One of your warm-weather pastimes is cooking soup in the birdbath outside. You’ve also used up all of your Instax film–oh yes you have–and your goofy faces are a hit with the family on Facebook.You’re asleep right now–on Daddy’s side of the bed–so you aren’t aware yet of what’s on the way. Can’t wait to see your reaction to the thundersleet.